


Name

by Akoya8



Series: Birthday One-Word Prompts [28]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brienne Is Numbers Police, F/M, In Which There Is A Party And Pet Names, Let's Hide Out In The Gazebo Like Normal People, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pre-Jaime/Brienne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:24:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2252352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akoya8/pseuds/Akoya8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne is invited to a party. Unfortunately, it's filled with sharks masquerading as the upper class. Fortunately, there is a perfect little gazebo tucked away in the garden. Unfortunately, it's already occupied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Name

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire. It belongs to GRRM. 
> 
> Author’s Note: This was written for my dear friend, StarcrossedScientist (seriously, if you haven’t already, check out her stuff on deviantart). She planted this little plot bunny in my brain and forced me to write it (not that I didn’t enjoy it).

An invitation to a party lay on her table.

She’d walked around it for days, ignored it, yelled at it, and, eventually, RSVP’d it. Now, she picked it up and slipped it into the small clutch she carried. What in the world had possessed him to invite her to a party, a _Lannister_ party?

Feelings of dread and embarrassment followed her all the way to the opulent front door of the Lannister townhome in King’s Landing. She was ready to tuck tail and run when the door opened, and he stood encased in the light that poured out around him.

“I thought it might be you, Bear. I could feel your indecisiveness announcing your arrival.”

“It’s Brienne, Jaime, but I can see how someone with your limited intellect could make that mistake.”

He gasped and clutched at his heart, proclaiming dramatically, “A hit! Oh, I am sore wounded!” Jaime grinned at her, full of boyish delight that belied his age, before continuing, “I have missed you, Bear. Your youthful charm is, as always, invigorating.”

“I’m quite willing to say, “Blow this for a lark” and take my ‘youthful charm’ elsewhere.”

Jaime’s demeanor changed abruptly, “No! I mean, you can’t leave me alone in that nest of vipers, Bear; they’re already starting in on the awkward questions and the ‘my daughter is single’ speeches. You’re the only friend I’ve got, Bear. I _need_ you in there with me.”

Despite the sincerity of his tone, Brienne hesitated. His labelling of the other guests as ‘vipers’ was not inaccurate, she’d been surrounded by such people her whole life. They could eat her alive if they wanted to, but it didn’t feel right to leave him alone among them. _Damn my sense of chivalry_ , she seethed inwardly, _that Lannister bastard is hardly a maiden in need of rescuing_.

She sighed audibly, “No need to beg, Jaime, I’ll fend off the matchmaking harridans if you agree not to abandon me immediately.”

His shoulders sagged with visible relief, “On my honor as a Lannister, Bear.”

He stood aside and opened the door for her, waving her in. Within seconds, she found herself standing in a brightly lit entryway. Jaime closed the door behind her, she turned to say something to him, but the thought was blown to pieces by his sudden closeness. She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he gestured at her. Her confusion must have been apparent because he rolled his eyes and reached for her. Startled, Brienne leaned away.

“Stop shying, Bear, I’m just going to take your coat.”

She felt a blush burning its way up her face, “Oh, right, of course.”

She turned away and stood stiffly as his fingers reached for the collar of her coat. She should have known that he wouldn’t allow an opportunity to mock her pass him by, and his drawling voice floated up to her bright-red ears, “Still so jumpy around men, Bear; at this rate, you’ll never get one between those long legs of yours.”

Brienne jerked away from him, tearing her arms out of her coat sleeves. _Just ignore him, he thinks he’s being funny, ignore him_ , but her mouth ignored her brain’s advice and opened anyway. “I’ll have you know that I did let a man between my legs, and he did well enough to merit another invitation!” _Shit_! She’d done it now.

She had been lying about the invitation back to her bed, but the rest of it was accurate enough.

“Who was it?” Jaime’s voice was hard and it crawled up her spine, making her shiver. “Who was it?!” he barked out.

His tone stunned her into answering honestly, “H-Hyle Hunt.”

Brienne didn’t have to look at him to know that her answer surprised and infuriated him, she could feel it in her bones as he spoke, “Well, well, well, that is _shocking_. Apparently, I was laboring under the false impression that you possessed a shred of pride. I’ll not be making that mistake again.”

Cutting blow delivered, he stalked off, taking her one good coat with him. She sighed again, _so much for his promise to stick around_. 

* * *

 

Without Jaime there to help her navigate the murky waters of mixing with upper class society, Brienne soon found herself skirting the fringes of the party, edging ever closer to a door that would take her out to the small garden at the back of the house.

She had glimpsed a small, somewhat secluded gazebo through a window and determined to reach it as unobtrusively as possible. The task she had set for herself was shocking in its improbability: she towered over many of the other guests, yet her height did not ease her passage through the crush of bodies.

Every opening that she saw was swiftly occupied by another person, and every few steps she was hailed by someone to bring them another glass of champagne or a tray of hors d’ oeuvres. Brienne bemoaned her simple outfit of black pants paired with a white blouse, but she did not entirely regret wearing it instead of a dress. The humiliation of being mistaken for staff was nothing compared to what it could have been if she had appeared in an ill-fitting dress and heels.

So, dodging hails and curses, she wove her way through the crowd, eventually using her height to intimidate people into clearing a path. It took several minutes worth of hard work and forced niceties, but she finally arrived at a nondescript staff door. She was confident that she could find her way to the kitchen, and from there stage her escape to the garden. Brienne opened the door and stepped into a dim hallway. A surprised squeak met her arrival.

“P-pardon me, miss! Nobody comes back here but the staff. Are you lost?”

Brienne’s cheeks colored, even the staff knew she didn’t belong. Gods damn Jaime for inviting her to this useless party! “I’m not lost, well, I am lost, but I thought I could find the kitchen and use it to get to the garden. I wanted to get some air,” she finished lamely.

The girl flashed her a sympathetic look, “I don’t blame you, miss, it can get right stuffy in there. I would take you myself, but I’ve got to get this out there or my head will roll. Just go down this corridor, take the third left, and go straight through the kitchen after that.”

“Oh, thank you…”

“It’s Gilly, miss, and don’t think a thing of it!”

“ _Thank you_ , Gilly,” Brienne said warmly, injecting as much sincerity into her voice as she could. Gilly bobbed a quick curtsy and ducked through the door, her tray head aloft for the ravenous crowd.

Brienne followed her directions, narrowly escaping being hit by a chef-thrown ladle as she rushed through the kitchen. Once in the garden, she breathed out a sigh of relief then inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the night air. It was perfumed by the flowers of the garden, their heady notes tickled her nose, and the moon overhead cast an ethereal light over everything it touched.

She considered forgiving Jaime for his desertion if he had not left her among that vicious school, she wouldn’t have seen such a beautiful sight. “Gods damn that Lannister,” she muttered.

Brienne heaved another sigh, “And gods bless the feather-brained idiot.”

The garden, which had seemed small and manageable from inside the house, was proving difficult to navigate. Hedges sprang up unexpectedly, and Brienne had managed to trip over well-hidden roots a few times before finding the gazebo. Her haven shone like a beacon in a storm, and she hurried towards it, eager to be out of sight until she could safely sneak back home.

However, before she’d even got under the eaves, she saw that her solitude would have to be shared with another occupant.

“Oh, I am sorry! I didn’t know anyone else would be here.” The redheaded girl sitting on the gazebo’s sole bench startled at the sound of Brienne’s voice. “I can leave if I’ll be a bother,” Brienne continued.

The girl’s eyes went wide, “No, you don’t need to do that! There’s room for both of us.” She smiled and made room for Brienne on the bench.

“Gods bless,” Brienne murmured gratefully as she sat down.

“So, you’re on the run?”

“What? Oh! Yes, well, in a way.”

“All of them at once? I sense a story.”

“My friend invited me to this party, told me he would stick around so I wouldn’t be eaten alive, and then he stormed off!”

“What made him storm off?”

Brienne blushed and stuttered, “S-something stupid. I can’t believe he took it so personally.”

The girl laughed, “Isn’t that a user warning on most people? ‘Caution: will take offense at the slightest provocation, you have been warned.’ I thought it came in a standard set with insecurity and pettiness.”

Brienne was aghast for a moment before joining in on the laughter, “Oh gods, you’ve no idea how true that is!”

As their laughter trailed off into giggles, the girl finally introduced herself, “I’m Sansa, Sansa Stark, and I’m a survivor of a fundraiser. You are?”

“Is _that_ what it is? Gods, no wonder they’re all so awful. I’m Brienne Tarth, and I think I’m more of a victim. They thought I was one of the staff.”

Sansa winced in sympathy, “I think I would have preferred that to what I got. Every person Ty—my date introduced me to asked where my parents were. I think they were shocked that I, a Stark of Winterfell, didn’t burst into flames the moment my foot crossed the threshold of a Lannister home. I finally told him that I’d had enough and wanted to leave. He took it…poorly. So, I came out here instead. Being near the weirwood is calming.”

Brienne twisted around in surprise, “I’ve never seen once before, in person I mean. Just pictures in books.”

Sansa looked at the tree wistfully, “There aren’t many still alive South of the Wall. Other than the one at Winterfell, this is the only one I’ve ever seen.”

“I didn’t know the Lannisters worshipped the old gods.”

Sansa’s mouth twisted into a small smile, “They don’t.”

“Ah.”

It was a status symbol then, another ploy by Tywin Lannister to show of the enormity of his wealth. They turned back to the window, watching the party continue without them, oblivious to the fact that they were also being observed.

* * *

 

“Pigheaded bear of a woman! With that bastard, Hunt! Can’t believe she’d be stupid enough to—”

“And who is the object of your fervent derision, Jaime?”

He quickly drew back from the window, “No one, father. I was just remarking on the quality of this year’s crowd. They seem to be even more vapid than the one before. How do you find them, I wonder. Do you simply flash a bit of gold, and they trip over themselves to sniff at your arse?”

Tywin said nothing; he simply lifted a skeptical eyebrow and looked out the window. Behind him, Jaime curse quietly, he shouldn’t have tried so hard to distract his father.

“I see no one except the Stark girl. Surely she was not the woman you were berating?” His father’s voice had a strange edge to it, but Jaime ignored it.

“Gods, no! It’s Be—I mean, Brienne Tarth.”

“Selwyn’s daughter? That giant of a woman?”

“Yes,” Jaime bit out.

Tywin looked thoughtful, “Hers is a good family; they have a very old and established name. You could do much worse.”

With those confusing words said, Tywin departed, rejoining the avaricious crowd below. Jaime was left behind, flabbergasted, yet extremely elated: he had his father’s tacit permission and Brienne didn’t have a prayer. 

* * *

 

“So, um, what do you do for a living when you’re not going to boring parties? If you don’t mind me asking…”

Brienne sighed, “I go work my equally boring job. I’m an analyst for the KLPD. I run statistics and things like that.” She saw the look of awe settling on Sansa’s face and rushed to correct whatever false impression she had given, “No, it’s not glamorous at all! I’m more like a numbers police. I mean, I am occasionally loaned out to specific investigations, but nothing too exciting…” Her voice trailed off when she realized that it was too late, Sansa had already affixed the image of ‘Brienne the Cop’ firmly in her mind.

“Gods, that’s so incredible! I always wanted a job in civil service, but Ty—my date worries about my safety. I’m still at King’s College, and my second focus is in psychology. I wanted to be a profiler, but I eventually settled on putting my business degree first.” Sansa smiled wryly at Brienne, “At least the psychology will help with the business. I’ve got an internship lined up at Casterly for this summer; that’s partly why I’m at this party: my date wanted me to get to know the faces of ‘the enemy.’”

Doing what she did for a living, Brienne was not surprised when she felt a flash of concern for the younger woman. The kind of relationship that Sansa found herself in was unhealthy and unequal. Not wanting to sound overbearing, she tried to ease into her line of questioning, “Sansa, you sound a little raw about that. Were you forced to make the choice? You make it sound like you’ve been conscripted into a career that you don’t want.” Gods, she hoped that had been non-confrontational enough to get Sansa to open up.

Sansa laughed and waved away Brienne’s concerns, “You’re right, I made it sound like I don’t have a choice, but I really do. I wanted to be a cop, or something like that, because I’ve always felt left behind in my family. I only have one sister, and she’s determined to be the best fencer in all of Westeros, if not the world. My older brothers are military, my youngest brother says that he wants to go that way, too.

“Even Bran doesn’t let being in a wheelchair stop him from being physical. They’re all part of this world that seems to go right by me. I’m jealous of them. I want to protect people, but I also want to belong. I can belong with Tyw—my date; he’s made a place for me. I think he’s the first person in my life to ever do that.”

Brienne was struck dumb by the conviction in Sansa’s voice. She was so young, but she understood herself so well. It gave her an air of confidence that Brienne she lacked in her own life. Maybe if she knew herself better she could have the confidence to ask Jaime into her bed… _No_ , she shook her head slightly, _that would take far more ego than I possess_.

Now that their conversation had reached a lull, Brienne turned back to the weirwood, contemplating its strange beauty. It was an odd addition to the garden; it stood sharply in contrast to the delicate flowers and shrubs that surrounded it. Thinking on its presence in the garden led her back to her original supposition: it had been purchased and planted as a status symbol. Still, there were less expensive ways to show off, but what if…

Her analytical mind cranked into motion: (1) Sansa knew about the weirwood, had escaped from the party to commune with it, (2) the Lannisters don’t worship the old gods, but the Starks do, (3) Sansa had almost said her date’s name several times, but she cut herself off before completing it, and (4) her date’s name started with ‘Ty,’ and the only man in the Lannister family who had the money to gift his Stark mistress with a weirwood was Tywin fucking Lannister.

Gods, if Sansa played her cards right she could very well become Jaime’s stepmother. The look of horror on his face when he found out was hysterical to imagine, but Brienne could not escape _her_ horror at the thought of a woman so young and innocent caught up in Tywin Lannister’s claws. But, she needed more than her hunch and perfectly aligned evidence; she needed a confession from Sansa’s mouth. “Gods, Sansa, not _Tywin Lannister_?!” Brienne flinched back from the disgust she heard in her words, hoping that Sansa wouldn’t take too great an offense at her tone.

In the dim light of the gazebo, Sansa’s blush burned brightly, “You can’t tell anyone!”

“But, Sansa, he’s—”

“I know! I know exactly what he is, and he’s what I want.”

That quiet confidence was back, lending her voice an authority beyond her years. Brienne’s arguments ran through her head, butting up against each other until a single thought broke free from the rest: _Gods, please don’t let Jaime be like his father_ —

“What?”

“P-pardon?”

“‘Jaime?’ As in _Jaime Lannister_? Here you are about to read the riot act to me for my relationship with Tywin, when you went and got a Lannister of your own!”

Brienne opened her mouth to refute Sansa’s statement, but shut it with an audible click. Her embarrassment at letting her secret slip rushed hot and red through her body. “Yes, I rather suppose I did,” she finally retorted, holding herself up straight, ready to face whatever criticisms and condemnations Sansa threw at her.

Instead, Sansa let out a heavy sigh, “What a pair we make, Brienne: each of us with a Lannister to call her own.”

Brienne didn’t want to shatter the moment by admitting that she was only friends with Jaime (but had a yearning to be more), so she nodded in agreement and waited with Sansa in amicable silence for the party to disperse.

* * *

 

Later, as Sansa wound her arms around Tywin and apologized for her lengthy absence from his party, she remarked to him that she had met Jaime’s future wife. “I think you’ll approve of her; she’s made of strong stuff.”

Tywin hummed distractedly and pulled Sansa closer to him, tangling his fingers in her long hair as he lifted her face up to receive his kiss. “Enough about my son, Miss Stark. I believe we had an agreement about tonight, which you broke.”

Sansa giggled up at him, “Oh, and what was our agreement? I think it completely slipped my mind.”

“Wretched girl, you were to stay by my side all night, but you left me to go sit in the garden. I’ve been deprived of your company for too long. Time to rectify that.” He silenced her laughing protests with a thorough kiss that left them both breathless.

Sansa recovered enough of her breath to lick her lips and cheekily say, “Right, Mr. Lannister, I think you should take me ‘round and inform me of what I missed, besides the pleasure of your company.”

“Too bold by half, that’s the problem with you Starks.”

“I’ll just refrain from any future acts of boldness, then.”

“Don’t you dare.”


End file.
